


The Experiment

by Artemitica



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemitica/pseuds/Artemitica
Summary: With some time to kill, Cyrus and Therion get to know each other a little better. One thing leads to another... leads to an inn room. Turns out they're both huge dorks, though. Crossposted from ff.net, the work that inspired a much longer, darker story.





	The Experiment

The travelers arrived in Saintsbridge at mid-morning. 

“Ah, Saintsbridge!” Cyrus said. “I have never been here, but a few lines of verse I read long ago have always made me yearn to visit. I believe I had copied it down in my notes.” He paused to ruffle through his possessions.

“What a beautiful day!” Ophilia gushed. “It just makes one want to…”

“Hunt for bargains!” Tressa chimed, her eyes already sizing up the competition in the marketplace. “I’ll see you guys at the end of business day!” Tressa bounded off with her trinket-laden pack.

“Seemeth like a goode day for a hunt,” H’aanit said. Linde growled her affirmation at the huntress’ side. “We shalle return at sundowne.”

“Mmm, I was thinking I had business here,” Ophilia said. “I need to make my way to the cathedral, for the ceremony. But I’m not sure where it is.”

“I will accompany you, Sister,” Olberic boomed. “And see that you make it there in safety.”

“Reckon I could come too, Sister Ophilia?” Alfyn reddened when the cleric turned to him. “Er, as long as I weren't in the way, that is.”

“Of course!” Ophilia smiled. “Prim, would you like to come, too?”

The dancer smiled a cat-like grin. “They don't let girls like me in fancy cathedrals like that,” she said. “But the tavern seems to be calling my name.” Primrose sauntered off, a few townspeople’s eyes watching her go.

“To the cathedral!” Olberic boomed.

“Ah, yes, here it is!” Cyrus traced an index finger over a handwritten page. “At rivers edge, the city doth gleam…”

Therion looked up from counting the contents of the coin purse he had just snatched from one of the men distracted by Prim. “I don't know who you’re reading to, Professor, but everybody left.”

“The soul of the ancestors--” Cyrus looked around. Just he and Therion remained from the party. “Curious. When might that have occurred?” 

“While you had your nose stuck in that book,” Therion said, scanning the street for his next mark.

Cyrus looked at the thief. “Should we go find them?”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. Not much trouble you can get into going to church.” Therion’s roving eye settled on the scholar. “I got an idea. You want to share more of that poetry of yours? I'm sure the locals would love to hear it.”

Cyrus smiled wryly. “So that you can relieve them of their purses while I serve as a distraction?”

Therion laughed. “Can’t put one past you, huh, Professor? Guess I’ll just wander around on my own.” The thief shrugged, and started off down the street.

“Let me accompany you,” Cyrus said, sliding his book back in his bag. “Though many believe scholars thrive in solitude, I find quite the opposite to be true when it comes to myself.”

“Great,” Therion said. “I thought I might get out of a lecture today.”

“You wound me, sir!” Cyrus said. “My aim is not to lecture you; merely to enjoy your companionship.”

“My companionship?” Therion arched an eyebrow. 

“Indeed! I am deeply curious about the stories my fellow travelers have to tell! Primary sources are always more reliable.”

“You don't want to know anything about me,” Therion said.

“Quite the contrary! I--”

“No,” Therion said seriously, stopping suddenly. “You don’t.”

The scholar looked at him, mouth slightly open. Therion smiled. _I’ve made him speechless._

“Oh, pray don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mean to pry!” Cyrus sounded flustered. “Dear me, this is what always happens. Genuine curiosity on my part is misconstrued as something offending or untoward. I do apologize, truly!”

Therion couldn't help but laugh. Sure, the scholar seemed pompous at times, but when he got all embarrassed like this, it was kind of funny. Therion watched his cheeks redden as his mouth moved in apologies. 

“I’m just messing with you, man,” the thief said. “Forget about it.”

“Oh!” Visible relief washed over Cyrus’ features. “Thank the Flame! The last thing I would want to do--”

“You read a lot of books, but you’re not so good at reading people, huh?”

“I’m afraid so,” Cyrus said. “Book smarts, not street smarts, as they say.”

Therion shook his head. “Nobody says that.”

“Really?” Cyrus looked perplexed. Therion laughed. 

“Let’s go sit,” Therion said, motioning to a shady spot under some trees. “Tell me about how you get yourself in trouble.” He tossed Cyrus an apple.

The scholar caught it with both hands. “So that you can have a laugh at my expense?”

“And you get to talk and hear the sound of your own voice,” Therion said, hefting himself up on a stone wall. “Win-win, if you ask me.”

Cyrus laughed, and moved to lean against the wall next to the thief. “I have been told that I have a rather pleasant sounding voice.”

“That's true,” Therion said, then quickly cleared his throat. He saw Cyrus’ smile from the corner of his eye. “So is your lack of street smarts why you’re out here looking for a book instead of teaching, Professor?”

“Yes, in fact, you probably shouldn't even be calling me Professor. Cyrus will do.”

Therion pointedly took a bite of his apple.

Cyrus explained his circumstances, adding his own commentary and perspective in his relating of the tale. Therion had finished his apple and fished another out of his baggy tunic by the time the scholar had finished.

“So you had no idea this girl was coming on to you,” Therion said.

“None at all!” Cyrus said. “When I am in the classroom, my mind is completely focused on learning. Making sure I explain things thoroughly, ensuring that my students understand, anticipating any confusion or questions on their part… thoughts of romance never enter my mind!”

“In the classroom? Or ever?” Therion asked.

Cyrus was silent for a rare moment. “What do you mean by that?”

“You never thought about this girl later, outside of the classroom?”

“Well, she’s quite young, comparatively, I wouldn’t--” The redness was seeping back into Cyrus’ cheeks. Therion grinned mischievously.

“Are all your students so young? I thought you taught people of all ages.”

“Any who is eager to learn!” Cyrus said.

“And you never fell for any of your students? Never met one for drinks at the end of a course?”

Cyrus took a bite of his apple and stared straight ahead, brow furrowed in thought. He had grown strangely quiet. Therion wanted to see how far he could push it. How uncomfortable could he make him? “I don't believe that,” Therion said.

“What's not to believe?”

“A guy who looks like you, sounds like you, is smart like you, and has a posh position at the academy? Women should be all over you!” 

Cyrus took another bite. “That hasn't been my experience.”

Therion scoffed. “You’re telling me there's not half a dozen girlfriends waiting for you back in Atlasdam.”

“Never.” Cyrus said.

“And you…” Therion caught himself. “Wait, never?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Never have I taken a serious lover.”

“Seriously?!” Therion said. This man, with his dashing good looks and his smooth as silk voice… never?

“Don’t try to shame me for it!” Cyrus said, suddenly re-animated. “My scholarly pursuits have always occupied my time. I value the desires of the mind over the desires of the flesh.”

“Desires of the flesh…” Therion shook his head. “Are you for real?”

“Quite serious.” 

“You even kissed a girl? Held hands?”

“I have,” Cyrus said. “Several. And that's as far as it ever went. Everyone always glorifies romance as this earth-shattering experience. I’ve locked lips with a variety of women, and never found it all that exhilarating. Sure, I'm aware that others can find me attractive. And I can appreciate beauty in others. Like yourself, for example.”

Now it was Therion’s turn to redden. “Wha…?”

“If you would just style your hair differently,” Cyrus said, reaching out with his free hand to brush the locks of pale hair back from the thief's brow. “Then people could see your face.” The scholar smiled. “They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. And perhaps if you lose that scarf. You have a strong chin, definitely a positive.”

Therion stared at him. Ordinarily, he would have swiped the hand away, retreated, maybe spat out an insult or two. But the way Cyrus was looking at him with those bright mahogany eyes… studying him, not criticizing. But that was Cyrus’ modus- curiosity, not judgement. It was a sort of clean innocence. Therion’s world was one of lies and deception, manipulation and false confidence. Cyrus just said what was on his mind. There was something vaguely attractive about that. And then you couple that with physical good looks… those eyes...

Therion glanced out towards the street. No one would be able to see them with the cover of the trees.

“Professor,” Therion said quietly, “have you ever kissed a man?”

Cyrus looked at the thief. “Why…?” but the question died as Therion’s lips pressed into his. The thief’s hand traced up Cyrus’ chest, curling around his shoulder as their lips softly parted. Therion opened his eyes and waited. It was the longest moment of silence he had ever experienced in Cyrus’ company.

“Well…?” Therion prompted, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the scholar’s silence. He could see the machinations working behind Cyrus’ softened eyes, but the moments of quiet ticked by, agonizingly slow.

Therion dropped his gaze and pulled away. “I'm sorry, I--”

“Now that… That was exhilarating,” Cyrus breathed. “I never would have thought… may I?”

“May you what?” Therion asked, but his question was answered when the scholar wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pressing their lips together suddenly. The scholar was no longer caught off guard. Therion felt Cyrus’ mouth move against his passionately, expertly, as if he had made a study of it-- he probably had. The thief felt the desire rise within him as Cyrus’ lips gently parted, softy playing at Therion’s mouth with his tongue. Cyrus’ hand entwined itself in the messy scruff of hair at the back of Therion’s head, caressing it as their lips worked together. The feeling was electric, as if Cyrus had cast a spell without speaking. Therion grasped for the scholar’s body, grabbing fistfuls of Cyrus’ elegant cloak, desperate to keep the two of them from separating.

Cyrus pulled back, leaving Therion panting, confused and disoriented. This was nothing like he had planned. He had meant to fluster Cyrus, to see if he could make the scholar’s cheeks burn as red as that stolen apple he had given him. 

“Professor…” he breathed, trying to regain sense of himself. He felt the desire pulsing through him with every heartbeat. 

Cyrus smiled warmly. “I had never thought to bring another male into the equation. The results are quite intriguing.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Therion said, trying to steady his breath.

“And you’re a cheeky rapscallion,” Cyrus said, brushing Therion’s hair back from his brow. “But I feel we may have much to learn here.”

Therion grinned slyly. “Would you like to do an experiment with me, Professor?”

\--- --- ---

It took Therion an admirably short time to locate the inn, slip through a back door, and pick a lock on a private room. Despite Cyrus’ assurances that he had coin to pay for the lodgings, Therion took his hand to usher him into the small bedroom, locking and barring the door behind them. 

Cyrus stood in the midst of the room, watching Therion attempt to subdue the adrenaline racing through him. He felt as though he were in the middle of a heist, and he looked at Cyrus the way he had looked at prizes in the past.

Of course, the scholar knew none of this. “Whatsoever did you mean by ‘experiment’? I do hope it involves more…” Cyrus trailed off as he stepped towards Therion, wrapping an arm around the thief. As Cyrus’ lips approached, Therion placed a finger across them.

“You’ll find out,” Therion said. “Take your shoes off.” He checked the lock on the door once more, feeling that high he only ever felt while he was stealing--being where he wasn't supposed to be, doing what he wasn't supposed to do, breaking all the rules. _Exhilarating indeed, Professor._

Cyrus had sat on the bed, and was neatly unlacing his boots. He set them next to each other near the bedpost. Therion tugged his own off, letting them fall where they may as he took the few steps to the bed. He pulled off his loose purple tunic and scarf, tossing it behind him as he climbed on the bed astride Cyrus’ lap, in just his trousers and undershirt.

The scholar’s lips curved into a smile as they touched Therion’s, his hands caressing the thief's shoulders. After a hot few moments, Therion pulled away. “How do you kiss like that if you never take a lover?”

“I strive for excellence in everything I do,” Cyrus said. “I’ve read much on the arts of lovemaking, I just have not had much practical experience.”

“Pssh, ‘arts of lovemaking,’” Therion teased as he tugged at the clasp of Cyrus’ cloak. “How do you get this thing off?”

“Just so,” Cyrus said, unhooking the clasp with the motion of a finger, letting it pool around his waist on the bed. The scholar’s lips sought the soft skin of Therion’s neck. The thief shuddered at the sensation as he fought with Cyrus’ clothes.

“Why are your clothes so complicated?” Therion said, the tip of his tongue poking from the side of his mouth in concentration.

“It seems there is a lock you can’t pick,” Cyrus teased.

Therion gave him a flat look as he finally untied it, tugging the scholar’s white shirt up over his head, exposing Cyrus’ chest to the chill of the room.

The thief traced his hands over the scholar’s bare skin, suddenly conscious of any roughness of his fingers as they brushed across the smooth paleness of Cyrus’ chest. “You really do spend all your time in libraries reading books,” Therion said, tracing the slight curves with his touch. “But you have more muscle than I expected for a bookworm.”

“Do you know how many stairs there are in Atlasdam?” Cyrus arced an eyebrow. “And how many stacks of tomes I needed to carry up and down them daily?” He took Therion’s hand in his, tracing the thief’s nimble fingers across his lips, taking the tips into his mouth.

A murmur passed unconsciously from Therion’s throat. He pulled his hand away, assuring himself he was in control of his desires. If he lost it, became a sniveling ball of nerves and passions, he would never forgive himself. He looked at the smirk on Cyrus’ lips. How could he stay so cool?

Therion wrenched off his undershirt, and slid himself down off of Cyrus’ lap, so he kneeled between the scholar’s legs. He reached for Cyrus’ belt, letting his hand rub up across the burning pressure between the scholar’s thighs. Therion smiled to himself- no matter how calm Cyrus’ demeanor, he couldn't fake such desire. With the scholar’s aid, Therion slid his trousers down, exposing the arousal he had felt through the cloth. Therion reached for it, stroking it gently as he looked up into those curious eyes.

“Have you done this before, Professor?” Therion asked, his fingers pressing ever so slightly as his hand moved up and down Cyrus’ length.

Cyrus, propped up on his elbows, was studying the sight of the half-naked young man caressing his erection, his lips parted and his breathing growing heavier. He smiled coyly. “I did leave academia to encounter new experiences. Not that I had expect--oh!”

Cyrus cried out as Therion took him in his mouth, pushing the length deeply into the warmth of his throat. Therion smiled inwardly at the reaction, but kept his lips wrapped around the scholar’s cock. His tongue caressed as his mouth slid along the length, one hand trailing up around Cyrus’ waist, the other curling around the base and toying with the scholar’s most tender parts. 

Therion felt fingers curl into his shaggy hair, pressing down as the thief worked towards Cyrus’ climax. He glanced up, feeling a spark of pride within him as he saw the scholar’s face screwed into a gasp of pleasure, his back slightly arched. He reached a hand down to his own aching desire, allowing himself a few comforting caresses as he redoubled his efforts. 

Cyrus writhed, his leg wrapping around Therion’s back, holding the two of them closer. The hand left Therion’s hair, and the thief watched as Cyrus dragged his fingers up the length of his body, across stiffened nipples aching with sensitivity, as he buried his reddening face in the palm of the other. The thief worked himself harder as he felt the muscles within Cyrus’ body quiver, heard the music of the scholar’s moan in that cool caramel voice, and tasted the warmth of his seed spill onto his tongue. 

“By the Flame…” Cyrus gasped, as Therion’s tongue curled around the head to get every last drop of the scholar’s release. The thief pressed his lips against the inside of Cyrus’ still trembling thigh.

Cyrus struggled to sit up, but the blood hadn’t yet returned to his upper body. Therion smiled at his efforts, but slid himself up alongside the scholar, letting their bodies share warmth. Therion spiraled his fingers across Cyrus’ chest.

“Well?” Therion asked. “What do you make of the experiment, Professor?”

“I said earlier,” the scholar breathed, “that just Cyrus will suffice.” With a hand on Therion’s cheek, he guided their lips together for a tired, thankful kiss. Cyrus’ touch traced down Therion’s arm, pausing right before their hands met. Therion glanced down to see Cyrus scrutinizing the silver fool’s bangle still on his wrist. Therion wrenched his hand away, ashamed. 

“But you know,” Cyrus said, brushing Therion’s hair back, “the scientific community only recognizes a scholar’s findings if the results can be replicated.”

Therion looked at him blankly.

With a surge of scientific fervor, Cyrus rose to his knees, pulled Therion’s trousers the rest of the way off, and positioned their bodies lengthwise on the bed, the thief lying supine beneath the scholar.

Therion laughed as Cyrus’ lips traced a path down his body, journeying to his still hardened cock. 

The scholar surveyed Therion’s straining erection, taking it delicately into his hand as he may have handled a priceless artifact. The lightness of the touch was agonizing for the thief, all his nerves tingling from the slightest motion of Cyrus’ fingers. The scholar touched the head softly to his lips, then to his tongue, then finally took it into his mouth. 

Electric waves surged through Therion’s body as Cyrus toyed with him. The scholar was deliberately trying different pressures, different movements, different teases of his lips and tongue, watching and feeling for Therion’s reactions. The thief couldn't take those eyes sparking with curious excitement watching him as every movement of Cyrus’ tongue and lips pushed him further towards the edge. He brought his arm up to hide his eyes, as his other hand clawed into the blanket below him. 

Suddenly, the warmth of the scholar’s mouth vanished, and his slick sensitive parts amplified the chill of the air. 

“I have read,” Cyrus said, leaving his hand to stroke Therion’s length, “that intense physical pleasure can be induced through stimulation of one’s… er… pleasurable parts from behind.”

Therion looked down at him from under his arm. Cyrus’ hair was disheveled and his face was pink, but he still held that endearing innocence. Therion couldn't help but crack a breathy smile.

“If you’re saying you want to play with my ass, I’m not going to say no,” the thief said, shifting his legs to open himself, “just be nice. At first.”

“But of course!” Cyrus said, curling his tongue around his fingers, leaving them slick and wet. He pressed a knuckle tentatively against Therion, feeling the gentle resistance.

Therion groaned. “I gotta love how you can make sex so un-sexy, Professor.”

“Cyrus,” he corrected, sliding a finger into Therion.

“Uungh,” Therion’s words turned into a mumble in his throat as he felt Cyrus’ fingers press and explore inside his body, all while the other hand gently stroked up and down his cock. Cyrus’ lips and tongue satisfied their curiosity across all of his most sensitive areas, and the thief felt the heat burn in his face. It had been a long time since he had let someone so far behind his usual walls of anger and sarcasm, so far into his innermost self. Something about this man, his pure fascination, his strange charm, the beauty of his face…

“I want you to fuck me,” Therion said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Pardon?” Cyrus said, looking up over Therion’s stomach.

“Can you?” Therion said. “I mean, I can wait, but... I don't want to wait.”

Cyrus smiled, shifting forward in the bed so that the thief could see that his arousal had returned.

Therion felt a yearning as he had rarely felt before. 

“But you’re going to have to ask me again,” Cyrus teased. “You know, for science.”

Therion bit his lip, stifling a laugh. He looked up at the sparkling eyes of the man leaning over him, and he didn't break eye contact as he spoke. 

“I want you to fuck me, Cyrus.”

The scholar leaned down to kiss the thief's temple. “But of course,” he whispered.

Cyrus slid his fingers across his tongue again, trailing the wetness around the head of his own renewed desire. He pressed it against the place his exploring fingers had just left. He held it there for an excruciatingly long time, gently circling their sensitive parts against each other.

“Gods damn it, I need it,” Therion groaned, all plans to stay calm and cool thrown away in the pulsing of his want. Cyrus, with that coy grin, watched the thief's open-mouth gasp as he rocked his hips forward, sliding himself into Therion’s body. 

Therion curled his legs around Cyrus’ as he slid in and out, each thrust bringing him just a bit deeper inside, opening Therion further and further. The thief’s hands crawled across the scholar’s back and shoulders as the grinding of their hips smoothed and strengthened. Therion couldn't control his voice any longer, as moans and gasps of pleasure spilled from his lips. Cyrus was buried in him to the hilt, pressure on that innermost place that made stars dance behind Therion’s squeezed-shut eyelids. 

“Therion…” he heard Cyrus’ whisper slide by his ear like sweet syrup. “I can't… it's too much…”

“For the love of the Gods, don't you dare stop,” Therion said, tightening his hold on Cyrus’ body, bucking his hips in pursuit of that elusive edge.

“I… ah!” Cyrus burst with one long, deep thrust, and Therion could feel the quivering within him as the scholar’s warm climax erupted inside his body. That was all the thief needed. Pleasure rolled over him like a stormy ocean wave, and he felt every muscle in his body tense and release at once. Cyrus was still inside him, and he felt his entrance tighten and squeeze around the receding length. His toes curled and his knees slumped, his shoulders arcing as the currents of passion sizzled through his nerves. Hot ribbons of his own cum landed on the burning skin of his stomach.

He felt Cyrus’ weight collapse beside him on the bed, heard the scholar’s panting breaths in the spaces between his own. Therion opened his heavy eyelids to see Cyrus, lying on his stomach next to him, sound asleep.

Therion laughed to himself, and let his own tired hand brush across the scholar’s jaw and neck. The sleeping Cyrus smiled.

\--- --- ---

“Where have you boys been all day?” Primrose said, sipping lightly from her wine glass.

“Oh, you know,” Cyrus said, sliding into a chair at the dancer’s table at the tavern. “Furthering the extent of my knowledge through the scientific method.”

“Is that so?” Prim said, watching Therion settle gingerly into his seat. She motioned to the attentive bartender to bring another wine glass and a pint for Therion. The thief buried his face in the foam as soon as it arrived. Prim scrutinized Cyrus as he poured himself a glass of the deep red wine from the bottle on the table. She reached into her bag and retrieved a small, compact mirror, sliding it across the table to Cyrus.

The scholar looked at it, confused. Therion then noticed Cyrus’ hair, still a mess from earlier. He almost choked on his beer.

“It's rather unlike you to look so improperly groomed, Cyrus,” Prim said slyly as Cyrus fixed his ponytail, “especially because you seemed impeccably styled just this morning.”

“Yes, well, I… er…” Cyrus stumbled.

“It's windy out!” Therion said, quickly running a hand through his own hair.

Primrose looked at each of them, and winked. “Don’t worry, boys. I know how to keep a secret.”


End file.
